Footprints on the Sands of Time
by TheDVirus
Summary: Sandy has been around for a long time. He remembers how, centuries ago, he was the first and only guardian until an encounter with a certain 'monster' changed his life forever.
1. Chapter 1

The beast was close.

Sanderson could sense its dark aura as he floated carefully above the treetops. His golden eyes scanned the forest for any sign of movement. The full moon shone overhead and Sandy was grateful for the light Tsar Lunar was giving him.

He had been hunting the beast for three nights now. It hadn't dared to enter the village on the edge of the forest yet but Sanderson knew it was growing bolder. Soon the little lanterns the villagers hung outside their wooden homes would be no deterrent.

He hadn't quite figured out what it was. Using Sanderson's dreamsand as a conduit, Tsar Lunar had told him it had fallen to Earth, trapped within a black meteorite. Apparently it was some sort of energy feeder, akin to how Sanderson was powered by belief. Lunar did not know exactly what it fed on but he certainly did not like how close it was getting to the isolated village.

Sanderson didn't like it either.

He also didn't like how crafty the beast was. He had already tried setting traps for it such as golden nets formed from his dream sand. Each one had been easily dodged, destroyed or ignored by the creature. So Sanderson had decided to simply wait: to be a fisherman rather than a hunter. The creature had shown no inclination to leave: there was definitely something in the village it wanted.

'Well', thought Sanderson, 'It's not getting it without a fight'. He, the Guardian of Childhood and Master of Dreams, would make sure of that.

He had spotted it a couple of times. One moment it had been a hulking black mass with pale eyes glowing in the centre. Then it had become a sinuous serpent slipping over logs and sliding on the surface of the river. Finally, when he had thought he had it cornered, it had burst into a cloud of leathery winged shadows that had escaped into the trees.

Now, as he narrowed his eyes, he thought he could see something moving ahead of him. A chill wind blew through the trees, carrying with it an unusual sound. A gentle sound like sighing. He swooped behind the top of a particularly large tree and watched the creature approach.

It was moving carefully and quietly. In this case, it had taken on a more recognisable form: that of a large wolf. It was not perfect though. Occasionally Sanderson saw its paw melt into the dark grass or it move too fluidly to be a solid creature. As it sniffed the air, Sanderson manifested a thick rope of dream sand, taking care not to let his golden aura peek out from his hiding place.

As the creature passed beneath his tree, Sanderson leapt and landed on the creature's back, slinging the dreamsand lasso around its neck.

The creature dissolved its body instantly but could not change the shape of its head. The dreamsand was doing its work: containing the creature's powers. Sanderson used his free hand to create a sword. He slashed at the tentacles the creature was using to attack him and glared back at the wolf's snapping black teeth. He was thrown about, trying desperately to keep hold on the creature's glossy, slick hide. It took flight, barrelling through the undergrowth and trees. It banged him into rough bark and dragged him through the river. He tried to choke it and wear it down.

Finally it seemed the creature was tiring. It tentacles could not be kept aloft any longer and one by one they fell to the ground. Sanderson watched each one be reabsorbed. The creature was forced to land, its wings falling away like leaves in Autumn. The creature fell heavily on to its side and lay there, its form reverting to the shape of the wolf to match its unchanged head. A grey tongue lolled from between its teeth as it panted in exhaustion. Grey, unfocused eyes looked at the forest floor.

Sanderson had to get it into the moonlight now! Before it regained its strength. Conjuring additional golden ropes that bound its paws and its muzzle, he dragged it to a nearby clearing. The moon shone down and Sanderson could feel Tsar Lunar's eyes on him and the creature. He knew Tsar Lunar could destroy it if it was a creature of darkness. All it would take was concentrated moonlight.

He rubbed his hands, ruefully looking at the welts and cuts on his fingers.

But then smiled as he noticed a familiar sensation flapping around his hair.

He watched the moths cluster around his golden light. They always tickled!

But now was not the time for distraction. He and Lunar had a job to do.

He saw the moon begin to glow and a thin beam of concentrated light begin to creep slowly along the grass. Lunar was beginning the unpleasant task. He was a good spirit, of that Sanderson had no doubt. But when it came to beings of shadow, there was no mercy.

He turned to watch the sorry scene, causing the moths to flap away and stopped dead.

He watched the creature extend a tentacle with surprising gentleness. A single moth landed, its silvery wings fluttering as it settled.

Sanderson heard the creature make a strange noise.

It sounded…contented?

Maybe…

He hastily jumped in front of the creature, holding up a hand to the moon. The beam's steady approach ceased. Sanderson could sense Lunar waiting patiently for an explanation.

Sanderson would always more in favour of showing than telling.

Moving in front of the creature, he heard it growl as the moth fluttered away. It stirred menacingly, coiling back like a reptile preparing to attack. Its pale pupil-less eyes narrowed and a maw opened, displaying needle like teeth.

Sanderson held out a hand, palm open. Hopefully the creature was like an Earth animal that way and could read his lack of aggression.

It didn't bite him at least. It cocked it's still wolflike head curiously. Sanderson's hand rested on its hide. It was like velvet: cool and soft. Sanderson met its gaze. It still didn't bite. That settled it.

It was more than an animal. It just didn't know how to be anything else.

Sanderson stood back and prepared the magic. He would help it.

As he began to weave the dreamsand in a complex swirling pattern, the creature's head swivelled. Its eyes widened at the shining spectacle and Sanderson watched in amazement as it playfully tried to catch some of the sand on its tongue.

The net suddenly tightened and the creature seemed to fold in on itself. Eclipsed by a ball of golden light, Sanderson began to help the creature mould into a new shape. One to help it fit in. One it could use to communicate with others. One that he could understand.

Abruptly, the mass inside the circular sandstorm shrank. Sanderson was careful to contain the creature's power but not diminish it. As he sealed the spell, an unearthly roar from within was transformed into a high pitched scream.

He was finished.

Muttering the unravelling incantation, the sphere dissipated. The golden sand rose like embers and disappeared into the sea of stars.

A naked boy knelt on the ground where the creature had been. He was staring raptly at the moon. Sanderson knew who was talking to him and knew better than to intrude.

The boy was grey skinned with messy black hair. As Sandy created a robe for him from golden dreamsand, the boy just continued to stare at the moon. His eyes were narrow and to Sanderson's surprise, now a bright golden. A side effect of the magic he assumed. As he layered the clothes onto the boy's slim frame, the material became a deep black, the soft golden dream dust fading like ice melting on a pond.

After a little while, the moon lost its bright glow and drifted behind a cloud. The audience was over.

Sanderson and the boy were left alone in the clearing.

The boy tried to rise but stumbled. Sanderson floated over and offered the boy his hand. The boy took it after a moment of hesitation. His grip was strong but soft, like the creature's. Picking up a nearby staff like branch, the boy used it to stand on his new legs. He stood quietly and Sanderson could sense his uncertainty. Everything was new to the boy. Everything was scary.

'Did he tell you your name?' Sanderson asked, smiling encouragingly. He would watch the boy. He was his responsibility now. Maybe he could become a Guardian in his own right? There was no doubt that the boy was powerful. Sanderson had felt his temper first hand. If that could be tempered with patience and focused with friendship, they could achieve so much!

The boy looked at him and after a few experimental breaths with his new body, found his own quiet voice.

'Pitch Black', came the reply with a smile in return.


	2. Chapter 2

The first few months passed quickly for the two new companions.  
>Pitch called Sanderson 'Sandy' for short. His explanation that since 'The Man in the Moon' had given him a nickname, he would give both Sanderson and his lunar benefactor nicknames too.<br>Sandy never found out Pitch's real name. The boy always smiled and said 'Pitch Black' was who he was now and he liked it. Nothing from before that mattered.  
>It certainly did not matter to Sandy.<p>

Sandy taught him what he called 'The Golden Rules'. Pitch wasn't a Guardian like he was but since he would be acting as an apprentice of sorts, it made sense to indoctrinate him just as Sandy had been.  
>Don't be seen. Don't interfere. Don't misuse your powers.<br>Before Sandy had first come to Earth, Tsar Lunar had given him a much longer briefing: about the humans that lived on the planet etc.  
>This hadn't been necessary with Pitch. When Sandy had transformed him, he had taken the liberty of sharing some of his memories with the boy. As a result, Pitch could function as well as any human despite never having been one before.<p>

Sandy's job was to spread dreams to the children of the world. It was both a great honour and a rewarding task. Tsar Lunar had chosen Sandy specifically to safeguard this planet which he had faithfully and fondly watched for centuries. That said, Sandy had often felt lonely. Lunar had promised there would be other Guardians eventually but a promise was poor company.

Pitch was a capable student, intelligent and articulate while also possessing a childlike wonder at the world around him.  
>This sometimes meant it was difficult to get him to concentrate. He was always poking through cupboards and dark shadowy places. Purely out of curiosity.<br>Sandy had once advised him of the old adage 'knowledge is power' and he had taken it to heart. The town library was one of his favourite haunts on those occasions he went exploring without Sandy. Many times Sandy would float past the window to check on him and find him sitting beside a pile of tomes, engrossed in the world of words.

However there were stumbles on their road together.

Pitch could not get the hang of dreamsand.  
>Every time he touched it, it fell to the ground in thick black clumps. Sandy had even tried creating a sand unicorn and encouraging Pitch to move it. As soon as he had tried to, it had warped into a hideous shadow horse. Pitch had been so frustrated that he had swatted it into a million pieces.<br>As Sandy had gathered them, returning them to their golden glow, he had tried to reassure the boy. It took time to master the sand. It took patience.  
>Pitch had just laughed, saying it hadn't bothered him and he would try again when he was less tired.<br>He never tried again.  
>Instead, when he accompanied his teacher on his nightly rounds dispensing dreams to children, he kept a lookout for alert parents or slipped inside houses as a shadow to give Sandy easy entry.<p>

Pitch had kept his shape shifting abilities but could not seem to manage wholesome forms.  
>A large spider or a wolf was no problem. A bunny or a butterfly were serious challenges. However he had managed a moth with tattered wings and a lean hare after a few hours intense practice. His powers were likely tuned to his personality. With his reserved nature and intense mind, appearing as an energetic puppy or a colourful, flitting butterfly would have been blatant lies.<br>It was like asking an undertaker to be a clown.  
>Pitch liked flying the most. Often Sanderson saw him flying as a glossy raven, swooping and diving as he caught the moonlight on his wings. Pitch loved the moon: it had been the first thing he had seen with his new eyes.<p>

But after a while, this fondness began to show the tell-tale signs of obsession. He would ask Sandy questions about The Man in the Moon every night. Sandy answered as best he could but admitted he did not have all the answers. He was just one of Tsar Lunar's many servants after all. He disliked the term 'soldier'. It seemed at odds with his peaceful task.

Pitch also had a bad habit of eavesdropping and relished in telling Sanderson what gossip he had uncovered. Sanderson reprimanded him for it but not too harshly. He was young after all and when you could not be seen or heard, the damage that could result from a bad habit here and there was minimal. Besides some of the techniques he used to uncover information were impressive such as hiding in shadows or appearing as a ghostly image in mirrors.

It was during one summer evening, sitting on top of the town chapel rooftop, that Pitch admitted another source of information. It began with a simple question but the answer had and has astounded humans for eons.

'Why am I here?'

Pitch lay, hands behind his head with Sandy perched on the sill of the bell tower beside him. The rivers of dreamsand were flowing freely throughout the town.

'I suppose that is up to you', Sandy replied. He knew Pitch had been deep in thought lately and had expected something like this sooner or later.

'It just would be nice to have some idea of what I'm meant to do', Pitch sighed, 'and I need to prove that your trust in me is well placed'.

'I know it is. You don't need to prove anything to me'.

'Not to you. To him', Pitch said, pointing to where a crescent moon hung behind a cloud, 'Does he ever talk to you?'

'Sometimes in dreams or through the sand but they are short conversations'.

'I don't dream. He only spoke to me once'.

'I remember'.

Pitch stood up abruptly.

'I'm not like you Sandy', he stated.

'What is on your mind?' Sandy asked, cutting to the chase.

Pitch looked at his hands and flexed his fingers.

'I can't touch the sand without ruining it'.

'It is simply a matter of practice'.

The fingers curled into fists and Pitch pivoted to face his teacher. His face was tight, eyes burning with sadness and frustration.

'But I do practice! I can feel it want to move for me. It just doesn't work for me the way it works for you!'

'It is like your shape changing. We all have our talents and -'

Pitch clapped his hands loudly and continued his tirade.

'That's another thing! Why can't I manage a butterfly? They're tiny! How is it I can transform into a dragon but I can't make myself a stupid butterfly?!'

'And why do you want to be a butterfly? Are you unhappy with being yourself?'

'I'm not in the mood for your stupid philosophy questions!'

'Calm down Pitch'.

Pitch seemed about to retort but Sandy's stern face brooked no further outburst.  
>He sank back to the roof, drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. He was a tall youth but right now, he looked small and lost. Sandy resisted the urge to touch his shoulder: Pitch was wary of contact and in his state of mind, it would most likely just upset him further.<p>

'I hear things sometimes'.

The admission was barely above a whisper. Thankfully, Sandy had made a life out of being a good listener.

'Things I don't want to'.

'What kind of things?'

'Like whispers in my head', Pitch elaborated, tapping his head with one finger, 'Only without sound'.

He attempted a laugh but it came out hollow.

'You probably think I'm crazy'.

'You are still young. Maybe it is another kind of magic: trying to help you figure out what you are here to do'.

'Maybe'.

'Does it frighten you?'

'No!'

The answer came too fast and sure for Sandy's liking. Pitch was on his feet again, twirling his staff in faux combat poses.

'It's just annoying. By the way did you know the baker's wife is afraid of him leaving her?'

'What?'

'And he's afraid that she'll find out he's sleeping with the new female schoolteacher. His children are afraid of spiders, the dark and the forest collectively and water, dying alone and birds respectively'.

'Did the voices tell you these things?'

'Some of them'.

Pitch laughed again. This one disturbed Sandy for a different reason. It was spiteful. Dark.

'Everyone in town knows about the baker and the schoolteacher. Funniest part is, so does his wife, she just won't admit it to herself!'

Pitch's laughter trailed off and he looked at Sandy as if awaiting a response. Sandy was perplexed at the behaviour. Was Pitch challenging him? Was it his imagination or had the shadows lengthened around them?  
>He took a deep breath and answered as neutrally as he could.<p>

'This gift you have could be a worthy weapon in the cause for good Pitch. But with great power comes equally great temptation. Please use it carefully. If you need me, I will do everything I can to help you'.

Just like that, Pitch's smile was genuine again. The night seemed to shrink back and his eyes lost their burning intensity.

'I know Sandy'.

As Pitch sat back down, unbeknownst to him, Sandy was thinking the same thing he was.

'_But I don't think you can'._


	3. Chapter 3

'This sickness is getting worse', Sandy said.

He and Pitch stood in the snow outside the large wooden cabin that served the town as a hospital. Inside, the building was crammed with concerned families clustered around beds. The town doctor and his two nurses could be seen hurrying between beds, weaving through the mass of people. They had been buoyed by volunteers from town in the last week as the sickness had intensified but the atmosphere was still pervaded by a feeling of desperate urgency.

The first case had appeared the month before. A little boy had collapsed while returning home with his sister from gathering firewood at sunset. He had not woken up. He was alive but no amount of noise could wake him. Within two days, his sister had also fallen ill. Now, the hospital's two floors of occupied beds signified the toll of the sickness.

It was not a quiet sleep the victims fell into. Even outside, the pair could hear whimpering and twitching as the patients ran from monsters in their minds. There were even screams.  
>The victims had just one thing in common: they were all children.<p>

Sandy was hesitant to use dreamsand, concerned that it would make the situation worse. The sand had the power to heal but only if the user had some idea of what he was dealing with. The victims were suffering from the effects of bad dreams and it was obvious these were not ordinary human nightmares. The last thing he wanted to send them into even deeper slumber by accident.

As the snow fell, Sandy looked at Pitch. The youth's face was illuminated by the lamps within and his eyes were narrowed.  
>He had been distracted recently: less enthusiastic to accompany Sandy on his nocturnal duties.<p>

Pitch had not been feeling himself.  
>He had not confided in Sandy because he was sure it was only a temporary thing. Probably due to the issues in the town. If he was a Guardian after all, or at least meant to be one, perhaps his powers were being affected by the sadness. True, Sandy hadn't been affected but they were very different.<p>

He had told Sandy about the constant emptiness he felt though.  
>Guardians had no need to eat but Pitch had (regretfully) stolen a couple of apples from a stall to see if they would sate the hunger he felt. He had felt them in his stomach but they had not even come close to taking the edge off the nagging sensation.<br>Sandy had taught him a meditational trick to help him 'find his centre'. According to the diminutive dream master each Guardian was powered by a particular trait. Sandy, using himself as an example had explained how he was powered by the ability of humans to dream. If Pitch found his centre, he would be a Guardian and the lackadaisical feeling would vanish.  
>However, much like the dreamsand, it hadn't worked.<br>It had also had the unpleasant side effect of increasing the intensity of Pitch's internal unidentified voices. Their whispering was strongest at night, ironically when he was most active. He hadn't been sleeping as a result and the emptiness he felt had only increased.  
>But, even in his weakened state, Pitch could feel something powerful inside the hospital. Each human seemed to be eerily glowing. Was it a trick of the light? Steam on the window perhaps. And yet, he could hear something calling to him. It was something he wanted so badly it ached. Every second he spent out here felt as if he was denying something deep and instinctive. The sensation of longing was clouding his mind and at first he didn't hear Sandy speak to him.<p>

'Perhaps the forest could give us a clue. Pitch?'

'What? Sorry Sandy. I was miles away'.

'Are you alright?'

'Yes. Just not sure what to make of this'.

'I was saying perhaps if we explore the forest we might get an insight into what's going on'.

'Perhaps we could examine the first boy infected while we're here? I know you say not to be seen but the only ones that can see us are all sleeping'.

'Good idea'.

Sandy floated up to the second floor window. He knew which window led to the boy's room but with the heavy curtains closed against the cold, it was impossible to tell what was on the other side. Thankfully, Pitch had already snuck around the back of the building to investigate.

Pitch gained entry easily enough. He slipped inside when the doctor unlocked the back door for a quick puff on his pipe but was encountering other difficulties.  
>For safety (since there were healthy child visitors within) he had attempted to become insubstantial but found himself flickering back and forth between his solid and his ghostlike shadow form.<br>It was just so damn hard to concentrate!  
>Inside, the voices were so overpowering it was like being underwater.<br>It was overwhelming. He couldn't tell which voices were real, which ones were in his head and which ones weren't words at all but actually human thoughts somehow bleeding into reality.  
><em>Is he going to be alright? God help us! I'm so frightened! Why aren't the doctors doing anything?! Please someone help my brother!<em> _Make it stop! What have we done to deserve this?!  
><em>It wasmaddening!  
>But somehow so tantalizing…so intriguing.<br>Breathing heavily, he focused on the weightlessness and quiet of the shadows and finally achieved the shadow state he wanted. Slipping up the stairs, he found the boy's room and slipped through the keyhole.

A few minutes later, Sandy entered through the window Pitch had opened.  
>The boy's father, a local woodcutter, was dozing in a chair by the boy's bed. The sister had obviously been roomed separately. The candle on the bedside table flickered in the cold breeze even as Pitch closed the curtains once more. He always left the windows open in case they had to escape quickly.<br>Sandy knew they would have to be quick.  
>With Pitch keeping a close eye on the father for signs of waking, Sandy moved to the bed.<br>A touch of the child's forehead signified a fever, the pillow damp with sweat.  
>Sandy could sense the child's disquiet and see it in his chattering teeth and tense face.<br>The child was pale and far too thin. Even for a harsh winter, the boy was peaky and his cheekbones were prominent. Though he was asleep, dark bags shone under his flickering eyelids.  
>Sandy prepared a small searching spell, gently guiding some dreamsand into the boy's nose to calm his breathing.<br>The child whimpered slightly as Sandy began to try and locate the source of the boy's nightmare. As the sand worked its magic, the boy seemed to relax but then jerked.  
>Sandy yanked on the dreamsand, withdrawing it. He had felt something interfere with his magic.<br>Something…alive?!  
>The sand came free in a cloud. Pitch turned at the sudden movement and both Guardian and apprentice stood aghast at what they saw in it.<p>

Ash like flecks danced and squirmed within the golden grains. Pitch could make out reaching tiny shadowy hands. Small white eyes blinked and dark mouths gaped, lapping hungrily at the sand.  
>There were dark parasites inside the children!<br>As Pitch raised his staff to smite them, they abruptly broke free of the sand and swept towards the window like shiny black leeches. With unexpected strength for their size, they surged through the curtains, blowing them open as they disappeared into the dark of the night.

Pitch grabbed a straggler. It twisted and clawed ineffectually at his grip as he brought it closer to Sandy.

'What on Earth is it?!' he asked, crushing its attempts at escape with the pressure of his thumbnail.

'It's not from Earth at all', Sandy said grimly, 'But I thought they were all gone'.

'Are these the shadow creatures you told me about? The ones who destroyed Manny's homeworld?'

'No', Sandy shook his head, 'These are too weak. Though their appetites are the same. Bad dreams give them power'.

Sandy looked outside and had a realization when he noticed the empty night sky.

'They must only move when Tsar Lunar can't see them. At the dark of the moon'.

'Well, if he can't help the children, can you?' Pitch asked.

Sandy scratched his head.

'I need time to think. I have never seen anything quite like this before'.

A sudden yell interrupted the discussion.

'Get out demon!'

The chill breeze had awoken the boy's father.

He lunged at Pitch with a hastily grabbed poker and swung it like a sword. Sandy tried to grab the man but phased right through him. The man did not notice. Sandy was not real to him but for some reason, Pitch was!

'Stay away from my son!' he roared.

'Pitch!' Sandy cried, 'Restrain him!'

'Fool!' Pitch growled at the man.

His teeth lengthened in anger as he clouted the man with his staff, knocking him to his knees. Pitch kicked the poker away and cowed the man with a vicious lion like roar. He grabbed the unfortunate father by the collar and held him up as a clear target for Sandy.  
>Sandy did not hesitate and caught the father in the face with a blast of dreamsand.<br>The man collapsed, knocking over a chair.  
>Pitch and Sandy heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairs: people alerted by the commotion.<br>The duo quickly left through the window, Pitch closing it for the sake of the boy's condition inside.

'That's impossible! How did he see you?! Adults never see Guardians!' Sandy asked as they ran along the roof.

'Never mind me! We have to get after the shadows before they escape!' Pitch cried and leapt into the air.

For a moment his form blurred. Shadowy feathers sprouted as Pitch began to transform into a raven. He took flight, hanging over the precipice.  
>Suddenly a ripple passed through him and he was human once more. Flightless once more.<br>Sandy saw Pitch's mouth open in surprise.  
>Then he fell.<p>

Sandy gave a wordless shout of shock and fear as he flew down after Pitch.  
>Pitch had fallen straight down through a pile of barrels. Sandy hastily began to dig, throwing bits of wood over his shoulder.<br>Pitch was curled up, awake but unmoving. Sandy could see black liquid leaking from his robe and realised he was bleeding.  
>Pitch stirred and groaned in pain.<br>His staff had broken in the fall.  
>Pitch watched as the wood disintegrated in his shaking hand.<br>He felt numb.  
>There was an ocean of emotion in his heart but it was too overpowering for him to deal with. He felt like screaming but he had no words.<br>Save for five.

'I can't fly anymore Sandy'.

Sandy was disturbed to see the golden light in Pitch's widened eyes fade to a washed out grey.  
>More alarmingly was the fact that his student's body suddenly seemed less…'real' somehow.<br>Like frost on windows under the heat of the sun, Pitch seemed hazy and transparent.  
>Sandy laid a hand on Pitch's shoulder. He knew Pitch wouldn't like it but he had to make sure he was still there!<br>Helping him to his feet and supporting his damaged body, Sandy guided him past the treeline to escape the shouts from the hospital as the humans searched for the source of the upstairs clamour.  
>He watched as ink like essence dripped onto his robe from Pitch's wounds. Once Pitch was safely hidden, he would return and ensure there were no such marks left in the snow for the humans to find.<br>Sandy didn't know what was happening with Pitch or the children but he knew he had to find a way to stop it: whatever the cost!

Pitch hated the Sandman's comforting hand on his shoulder. He hated the Man in the Moon for not being there. He hated the remaining splinters of his staff embedded in his palm as he gripped them tightly. And he hated the voices the most as they laughed inside his brain.


	4. Chapter 4

After that night, things only got worse.  
>Pitch could not fly, change shape or become one with the shadows anymore.<br>He moved slowly and painfully, like an arthritic old man, making him unable to assist Sandy with his duties.  
>Sandy was at a loss at how to help him. Tsar Lunar was saying nothing on the matter.<br>Pitch tried to stay positive for Sandy but every day he felt weaker. As if there was less of him.  
>The only power he still had were the voices.<br>They constantly whispered to him now.  
>He hated them but he found he desperately wanted to hear them. They were the only proof he was not powerless!<br>The sickness was getting worse. There seemed to be nothing anyone could do to stop it.  
>And in the depths of desperation, darkness festered unchecked.<p>

Sandy had gone to spread his dreams as usual that night.  
>Pitch knew there was no point trying to follow so had settled beneath a large fir tree to wait for Sandy's return.<br>He ached all over and his stomach growled. His eyes hurt even from the dim pastel coloured light of the sunset as it dipped below the horizon.  
>He didn't know what was wrong with him. His wounds had healed from his fall two weeks before but every joint still felt like crushed glass and his skin felt dry and itchy.<p>

A growing noise cut through his mental catalogue of aches and pains. Slowly, he crawled onto his belly and crept to the edge of the treeline, peering through the dense bushes into a large clearing.  
>A large group were gathered around two figures.<br>Pitch recognised one as a young mother from the village. The much smaller shape was her daughter. Blind from birth. A sweet child who loved to smell flowers. The only child not yet struck down with illness.  
>Her blank eyes were widened in alarm from the angry voices rising around her.<br>Pitch knew a mob when he saw it. And knew the promise of violence it brought.

'She cursed our children because she can't see! The spitefulness of the devil lives in her and we must purify it to save our own!' came a loud male voice.  
>There was a cry of agreement and the keen sound of the mother sobbing in fright.<br>Pitch watched as two men restrained her and another grabbed the child. She reached for her mother's hand, tears streaming down her face.  
>The break in the group revealed the plan to Pitch.<br>A barrel marked oil. A stack of firewood. Thick, strong ropes. And a long wooden pole.

Pitch couldn't hear the tumult of the group anymore.  
>His eyes narrowed and his fingers dug into the dirt so hard they began to bleed.<br>They were going to burn a child?!  
>A scared, helpless, little child?!<br>Pitch roared in anger and burst from the trees, summoning up all the strength he had left.  
>He didn't care about being seen or not.<br>He didn't care how strong he was or how tired he felt.  
>The voices whispered of a form they would all be afraid of. A form they were all familiar with. A form that kept them inside on cold nights when the wind howled through the trees.<br>He was a Guardian.  
>And Guardians protected children!<p>

The first villager was easy prey.  
>Swiping with one gigantic paw, Pitch threw him into the air like a ragdoll. There was a thump as he collided with a tree.<br>Pitch's mouth slavered as he eyed the clustered group.  
>Some desperately looked around, trying to see what had hit their companion. Some could see a hazy large shape. Others, the truly terrified, stared dumbstruck at the gigantic bear and screamed, baffled at the inaction from the group.<br>Its eyes were yellow and fevered in rage, its fur black as a moonless night and its red roaring mouth alight with shining white teeth.  
>It roared and the villagers scattered.<br>Everyone saw him now.  
>Pitch swung around and grabbed another villager with long searching tentacles.<br>He could change shape so easily now!  
>He threw the struggling man into another three that were running away. As they stumbled and tried to rise, he pushed a nearby tree over for effect.<br>The air was intoxicating. He needed more!  
>He grew large feathered wings and screeched as he rose on his back legs.<p>

The ringleader of the villagers, the one who had grabbed the little girl, was pelting towards him wielding a large branch as a weapon.  
>Pitch recognised him as the man from the hospital.<br>Even though he was in bear form, he still managed to smile.  
>'Demon!' the man screamed, flailing madly at Pitch with the branch.<br>Pitch bit it in half and leapt at him.  
>He felt the man's arms break beneath his bulk as he pinned him. The man squealed in pain and hysteria as Pitch leant down.<br>'Monster', Pitch growled in response.  
>The man's eyes rolled back as he fell unconscious from terror.<p>

Pitch snarled and reared up, bellowing in triumph.  
>This was power! He was himself again! Stronger than ever!<br>_Stop! They're had enough!_  
>The little voice -his voice- screaming inside his head at him was drowned out by the delightful sound of screams and running feet.<br>Some villagers were forced to cover their ears at Pitch's roar. Others fell to the ground as they scrambled to get away.

Soon the clearing was empty.  
>Save for Pitch as he tried to calm his racing heart, the mother kneeling awestruck and the little blind girl.<br>His own voice was clear now as his thoughts drew back from the primal hunger.  
><em>Change back. You're not an animal. Hide! You can't be seen!<br>_Pitch felt himself resuming his human shape and his eyes were drawn to the little girl.  
>He walked towards her and knelt, reaching up to touch her face.<br>She was safe. That was all that mattered.  
>The child smiled and took Pitch's hand, sensing he was no danger to her.<br>He looked at it.  
>His hand was clawed and bloody.<br>He swallowed bile as he noticed the slumped body of the first man beneath a tree. His neck was all wrong and his eyes stared at nothing.  
>In that moment Pitch Black found his centre.<br>The blind had no reason to fear the dark.  
>He turned away, eyes fixed on the treeline but not truly seeing it.<br>The mother snapped out of her astounded trance and ran to her daughter. She snatched her up and kissed her, holding her as if she would never let go.  
>'Thank you spirit', the mother began.<br>Pitch turned and snarled at her, slashing the air with shadowy bladed fingers.  
>She cried out and ran, daughter safely in her arms.<br>As expected, Pitch felt a warmth spread throughout his body even as his blood turned cold with horror.  
>Pitch gritted his teeth in despair, allowing his tears to flow freely now he was alone.<br>What had he been thinking?!  
>He wasn't a creature of wonder or dreams.<br>He was fear.  
>He fell to his knees and punched the earth, his fist leaving a cracked indentation. The physical pain was nothing compared to the torture of realization.<br>Fear was hated. Fear was distrusted. Fear was dangerous. Fear was fought by everybody who felt it.  
>Fear was alone.<br>How could he ever be a Guardian with a centre like that?!  
>When he looked up at the rising moon, he thought he could hear it laughing at him.<br>How could he ever tell Sandy?


	5. Chapter 5

'You were seen?!'

Pitch flinched at Sandy's voice. It was rare to hear him raise his voice to anything above a gentle reprimand.  
>When Sandy had returned from his nocturnal duties and witnessed the mess in the clearing, Pitch had immediately begun his explanation of what had happened.<br>Pitch was many things but he was no coward.  
>Sandy's face had turned a vibrant shade of red that enhanced his golden glow.<p>

'What was I supposed to do?!' Pitch snapped.

'Wait for me! I could've put them to sleep and-'

'Been just in time to watch them burn her alive! Don't worry though, they all think I'm the monster now so no doubt they'll be coming after me instead!' Pitch yelled pointing at the figure beneath the tree.  
>Sandy had conjured a golden sheet of dreamsand to cover the corpse while Pitch had been telling his story.<br>Noticing the tears threatening to spill over from Pitch's eyes, Sandy took a calming breath and held up a placating hand.  
>It had been an accident. Caused by an overwhelming urge to defend an innocent child.<br>Sandy honestly didn't know what he would've done in Pitch's place. Could he have resisted the urge to interfere? To a Guardian, the instinct to protect children was irresistible. It made sense that the same urge might be present in prospective candidates.  
>'You were right to save the little girl', Sandy said, 'But you lost control. This will only spread more fear'.<br>Trying to ignore the twisting, hungry feeling in his stomach at the mention of 'fear', Pitch tried to dismiss the unpleasant truth. Sandy's understanding manner was setting his teeth on edge.  
>He knew he had been right!<br>There had been no other choice and because he had made that choice (the only sane choice!), a little girl was alive and safe!  
>But he had killed someone.<br>He had taken a human life and attacked others in a blind frenzy.  
>He had become an animal, lashing out at any fleeing prey and gratifying in their terror.<br>Then again, maybe they had deserved it.  
>Every one of those people had been guilty: they all knew what they going to do.<br>They had even tried to superstitiously justify it!  
>The animal he had become was simply a reflection of their own dark thoughts and maybe fear of his retaliation would stop them trying anything like that again.<br>After all they hadn't dared return for the corpse of their friend.  
>Was that his purpose?<br>To enforce good behaviour? To demand it rather than just hope that people would do the right thing?  
>The more he thought about it, the better he felt.<br>So that's what he said.

'It made me feel better'.

Taken aback by the callous remark, Sandy noticed disconcertingly that Pitch's eyes were indeed once again a healthy yellow.  
>He was about to continue the debate when he noticed movement in the trees.<br>There was no mistaking the empty white glow of a Nightmare Man's eyes.  
>The dark trees were full of unblinking pairs of lights gazing down at them.<br>They clung to the trees, hanging down like oily ivy or slunk beneath the bushes like crawling centipedes.  
>Sandy darted his eyes from Pitch to the edge of the clearing hinting at their presence but Pitch merely cocked his head.<p>

'Don't worry I see them', Pitch said, 'They've been gathering for a while'.

'We will talk about this later', Sandy said, adding his desire for an explanation of how Pitch knew that to the list for discussion in the later conversation.  
>Quick as a flash Sandy leapt into the air and struck the closest Nightmare Man with a crack of a golden whip.<br>The creature groaned like a falling tree and as if on cue, the entire group fled as a nebulous cloud of black, skirting between trees and fallen trunks to escape.  
>Sandy leapt onto the back of a hastily conjured dreamsand manta ray and took flight. He flew high above the trees in order to keep as much of a bead as possible on the retreating creatures.<br>Pitch focused and to his relief, felt himself become insubstantial and slip into the welcoming cloak of the shadows. He sped behind Sandy, praying that his temporary power restoration would last until they had dealt with the monsters.

Sandy watched the shapes leave the treeline and begin to slither up a vertical cliff face, long limbs elongating and adapting to cope with the climbing. The area was inhospitable, the rocks weathered and fractured from slides and bad weather.  
>As Sandy saw the last black shape reach the pinnacle and disappear from view, he decided there was no longer any doubt about it.<br>There was a nest in the area.  
>Like ants or bees, there was rarely such a thing as a single Nightmare Man. They congregated in large clumps, splitting off only to find food and just such a nest would be the source of the 'sleeping sickness' causing misery to the townsfolk.<br>If he and Pitch could locate the nest, they could end the threat before the Nightmare Men grew bold enough to openly swoop down on the nearby town.  
>He hovered at the base of the cliff until a sleek shadow rising from the grass signified Pitch's arrival.<p>

'What is this place?' Pitch asked as he solidified.  
>He felt uneasy but immediately intensely curious about the area.<br>People had been hurt here.  
>Pitch could hear their screams from long ago as they reverberated around the rocks. Another unpleasant side effect of the voices no doubt.<br>A feeling of vertigo was creeping over him.  
>This place felt so familiar somehow.<p>

'It used to be a quarry until a rockslide made the work too dangerous', Sandy responded.

'What caused it?'

'Probably bad weather', Sandy said, urging his steed upwards.

Pitch hesitated on the ground. He was still aching from the last time he had tried to fly.  
>Noticing Pitch's nervousness, Sandy lowered the manta ray back to the ground and waited patiently for Pitch to climb on.<br>He climbed aboard with more scrambling than he had intended and silenced the brewing question in Sandy's throat with narrowed eyes.  
>Sandy mentally commanded the ray to ascend slowly: both for Pitch's sake and also to allow a plan of attack to form in his mind. It had been a long time since he had fought true Nightmare Men.<br>Pitch interrupted his thoughts before he got very far.

'Have I been here before?' he asked.  
>The familiar feeling had become maddening. As had the unpleasant silence between he and Sandy.<p>

'Not that I know of', Sandy said evenly.  
>Pitch was concerning him greatly. The unpredictable behaviour and erratic outbursts suggested the youth's mind was becoming increasingly disturbed. Not to mention the obvious physical and spiritual weaknesses preying upon both their minds.<br>Sandy considered returning to the base of the cliff and commanding Pitch to wait until he returned.  
>But what good would it do?<br>Pitch was too stubborn and prideful to allow Sandy to face unknown enemies alone, no matter how weak he felt. Sandy did not want him attempting to climb or fly up after him only to miss a step or fall from the sky due to his fluctuating power level.  
>No. It was better to bring his charge with him.<br>It would be easier to keep an eye on his condition and perhaps a common enemy would dispel or at least ease Pitch's uncertainty and anger.  
>If they defeated the Nightmare Men at their source, the small ones inhabiting the sick children would fade away, ending the 'sleeping sickness' once and for all.<p>

Pitch rubbed his eyes wearily.

'My head feels strange. Must be because I haven't flown in a while'.

They reached the summit and leapt from the ray's back. The construct shimmered and dispersed back into glittering sand as they landed, ready to engage the enemy.  
>The nest was a large one.<br>The adult Nightmare Men stood like pillars around the circumference of a large crater.  
>In the centre of the crater, black shapes scrambled over each other. Hundreds of tiny glowing eyes and spider like fingers reached out of the dark mass.<br>Infant Nightmare Men.  
>The crater led to the edge of the cliff and whatever had created it had caused a jagged split to run all the way down the rock face.<br>Sandy recognised the signs of a meteor strike and in the same moment, had an awful realization.  
>Something had fallen from the sky and crashed.<br>And Pitch knew this place without knowing how.  
>Sandy knew what had driven the humans away and caused the rockslide.<br>He knew what had landed here.  
>Pitch spoke even as he spun to face him.<p>

'I remember now'.

Pitch's eyes were wide as his hidden memories resurfaced. He narrated as he tried to make sense of the rush of imagery.

'I crashed here. I was inside a great black rock. Some men tried to break it open but I wasn't alone. I hurt them because we were hurt. Starving. I went looking for food. You found me and-'

Pitch looked at his own hands and suddenly clenched them in disgust.

'I brought them here', he said, 'It's all my fault'.

Sandy did not know what to say.  
>The Nightmare Men also seemed confused. The adults were leaning towards them slightly as if curious but were not attacking. It was startling behaviour: Nightmare Men were not known for their passivity.<br>Did they recognise something in Pitch?  
>Sandy decided to deal with the task at hand, before the crowd of shadows decided to attack them.<br>He began to prepare the old magic to transform the Nightmare Men's negative energy into positive magic. Then they could be assimilated into his dreamsand and spread dreams instead of nightmares.  
>The sand swirled around him in a golden miasma as he began to intone the necessary chants. Despite his concentration, he heard Pitch's voice clearly.<p>

'Don't bother'.

Pitch snatched a handful of the dreamsand rotating around Sandy.  
>Curling his fingers around the precious grains, he felt it try to flee his grip. It recoiled from his touch like a frightened insect.<br>'Not this time!' Pitch thought.  
>God, his head hurt!<br>He scowled and gritted his teeth as he focused. His pulse was beating in his ears as an incessant drum and his eyesight wavered as if he were underwater as Sandy's magic desperately tried to resist his alien influence.  
>The internal voices he dreaded steadily increased in volume until Pitch didn't know if he was shouting the words aloud or just inside his own head.<br>_I am your master!  
>Obey me!<em>  
>The sand began to buckle, writhing like a snake as it solidified into a black, wicked looking scythe.<br>As Pitch raised it above his head, it lengthened, casting a shadow over the whole pit.  
>'No mercy for monsters', Pitch intoned, 'Isn't that what Tsar Lunar says?'<br>With a vicious downward slice, he struck the crowd of Nightmare Men.  
>There was a mass pained sigh as a dozen of the infants disintegrated at the force.<p>

Sandy stood frozen, shocked at the brutality of the act. The swirling sand fell in one great clump to the ground, its potential magic quenched by Sandy's broken concentration.

'I've been practicing', Pitch smiled.  
>There was no trace of the wry humour Sandy had come to expect from Pitch in that smile. There was only malice and jagged teeth.<br>Pitch leapt into the fray with staggering speed, the scythe whirling like a devilish dervish as it decapitated Nightmare Men. Black ink spattered to the ground as they tried to flee, tying themselves in knots in their blind panic.  
>Sandy was horrified by the spectacle.<br>They were Nightmare Men: they lived by feeding on the suffering of others. Sandy disliked them but it was their nature. They couldn't help it. That was why he always cleansed them: purified them to serve a selfless purpose. That was the only way to truly defeat them without opening yourself to their darkness.  
>What he was seeing disturbed him far more. This was calculated, spiteful savagery.<br>This was Pitch as the predator he truly was.  
>Sandy cursed himself as he wracked his brains, struggling to process what was happening.<br>How had he been so blind?!  
>Pitch was a creature of fear, not of dreams or positive energy.<br>Just because a wolf could be befriended did not make it any less a wolf!  
>But it did not make it any less of a friend.<br>Sandy would be damned if he was going to watch Pitch be swallowed by his own dark urges!  
>Throwing his hands forward, he conjured two chains that reared up like serpents and gripped Pitch's wrists, locking them in place.<br>Pitch gave an odd spasm and stopped his onslaught, gasping heavily. He fell to his knees but lifted his head when he heard Sandy approach him.  
>His unnaturally long, grey tongue licked a smear of black sand from his face as the scythe blew away to nothingness on the wind.<br>Sandy didn't know whether Pitch had dissolved it or whether devoid of prey, it had simply crumbled to nothing.  
>Sandy searched Pitch's stare for anything he recognised whereas Pitch saw the Sandman's face was pale and his eyes were sad.<br>Overhead the moon shone down, silent and judging.  
>Even as he felt despair threaten to overwhelm him, Pitch bitterly hoped Manny had gotten a good view of the show.<br>'Now he knows what you really are', the infernal voices whispered, 'Now he will destroy you'.

'What's the matter Sandy?' Pitch said, unable to stop the emotion trembling in his voice, 'Scared?'  
>The last thing he saw as he collapsed was Sandy running forward to help him.<p>

Sandy looked at Pitch's sleeping face.  
>It was peaceful, mouth slightly open with his gentle breathing.<br>It was not the face of a monster.  
>He surveyed the scene around them.<br>The black blood droplets of the Nightmare Men were burning beneath the baleful gaze of Tsar Lunar, peeling into the air.  
>He had seen the whole thing and was wasting no time in annihilating every trace of the nest's existence lest the remnants were to gather strength again and threaten humans in the future.<br>As Sandy saw the telltale blue sparks began to form nearby, he shook Pitch slightly to rouse him.  
>Pitch's eyes opened and he stretched, bones creaking from his previous exertions.<br>He opened his hand and with a flourish, his old staff appeared, whole and undamaged.

'My powers have fully returned', Pitch commented.

Sandy looked at the sparks as they began to spin, creating a pale blue disk on the ground. A moongate.

'What's happening?' Pitch asked, standing up.

'Tsar Lunar wishes to speak to me', Sandy explained, 'I'm to meet with him at once'.

'About me?' Pitch asked darkly.

'Yes', Sandy said.

'He thinks I'm like them doesn't he?'

'I don't know'.

'But he's right!' Pitch practically screamed, 'Why are you the only one who keeps denying it?! You saw what I was!'

Sandy levitated from the ground sharply and grabbed Pitch's collar. Yellow eyes looked into an identical pair as he pointed at Pitch's chest.

'No matter what you were, no matter what you've done, you are Pitch Black and you are my friend', Sandy declared.  
>He released Pitch and walked towards the moongate.<br>Before he entered, he turned and looked at his charge.

'I will make him understand', Sandy promised, 'Stay here. I will come back for you'.

'I believe you', Pitch nodded.

When he was certain Sandy had gone, swallowed by the teleporting beam of light that vanished into the darkness, his expression darkened once more.

'I just don't trust him', he growled at the moon above, daring Manny to respond.  
>When the usual silence greeted his statement, it was too much to bear.<p>

'You think you have the right to judge me?!' Pitch yelled at the sky, 'All you ever did was give me a name! Why won't you speak to me?! If you hate me that much why not just kill me if I'm no use to you?!'

He knew the accursed Tsar had heard him. According to Sandy, the Tsar kept a large listening trumpet on the moon so as to better hear the wishes of children on earth. If he could hear brats demanding favours from stars, there was no reason he could not hear a supernaturally imbued voice like his.

'Fine', Pitch snarled.  
>He sniffed the air until he found what he was looking for.<br>A thin scent wafted down from further up the mountain.  
>The scent of forgotten tombs and graveyards on winter mornings: the smell of fear.<br>He knew he had not destroyed them all. This was not the main nest but an outpost.  
>The true enemy lay at the top of the mountain.<p>

Raising his staff towards the moon, Pitch shouted his vow.

'I will prove to you that I am more than I was! I am worthy!'

With that, he began to climb, letting himself be led by the disquieting aroma to the source of his anger and confusion. Destroying the outpost had left his body buzzing with power and he did not notice as he licked his lips in anticipation of what he would find at the summit.

He would defeat the Nightmare Men himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Tsar Lunar's eyes narrowed.  
>Using the large telescope that sat in the heart of his lunar observatory, he watched Pitch's dark shape begin to climb the mountain on Earth.<br>He had heard everything the insolent boy had shouted at him.  
>How dare he make demands?!<br>How dare he insult the great gift he had been given?!  
>Leaping from the padded chair that served as his viewing platform he gently floated to the ground by holding one of the many multi-coloured balloons that hung in the warm air. Hundreds of them drifted lazily in the observatory, the light from the lamps casting rainbow splashes on the floor.<br>Each one had a delicate scroll tied to its string. Each one a wish requiring the Tsar's attention. Each one a good child's trust and belief that he intended to reward.  
>But his business tonight did not concern a good child.<br>It concerned a creature that, against his better judgment, he had allowed to run free for far too long.  
>He wasn't surprised.<br>No matter how much you coddled a snake, its first instinct was always to bite.  
>He was concerned about Sanderson.<br>One of his greatest soldiers and dearest friends, Sanderson had helped him escape to his new home, fought by his side against all odds and swiftly agreed to serve as the first of the new Guardians that the Tsar had selected to watch over the children of his adoptive protectorate planet.  
>Another of Sanderson's most appealing traits was that he always believed the best in others.<br>Even if there was none to be found.  
>The Tsar pulled on a comfortable silk robe as he saw the blue sparks of the moongate begin to form on a nearby circular platform. He sat in a large armchair beside an ornamental fireplace. Settling on the velvet cushions, he waited for Sanderson to emerge from the gate.<br>It was time to discuss things face to face.  
>It was time to end this experiment before things got worse.<p>

Sandy stepped from the portal, brushing softly glowing blue dust from his robes.  
>Travelling by moongate was always instantaneous so it was a mystery how every traveller that used one ended up shedding astral dust that had somehow clung to them en route.<br>The observatory had grown since his last visit. He had left the Tsar here as he had begun construction, still grieving from the loss of his homeland to darkness. It had begun as a necessity then evolved into part of what the Tsar had taken to calling the 'Great Project'. The preservation of his culture and the benign ideals his family had held dear.  
>As Sandy approached the Tsar in his chair, he bowed. <p>

Tsar Lunar tutted and shook his head fondly.  
>He had repeatedly told Sanderson not to bow.<br>There was no point bowing to a monarch without a kingdom.  
>Any pride the Tsar had ever had in his title had been lost with his family.<br>Besides, he had too much respect for Sanderson to see him bend the knee to anyone.  
>'Please old friend', he said, 'No more formalities. Please sit'.<br>As Sandy obliged, the Tsar offered him a delicate cheese pastry from a plate on a nearby table.  
>Sandy respectfully declined.<br>The Tsar took a bite of one and chewed thoughtfully.  
>Swallowing he said, 'I can't make them how they're supposed to be. My memory is not that precise. But good company seems to have improved the flavour'.<br>'I'm happy to hear that', Sandy said diplomatically, 'It has been too long since we have spoken face to face'.  
>'Yes but I won't waste your time with small talk Sanderson', Tsar Lunar said, 'You know why you are here. We have to do something about the boy'. <p>

Sandy knew there was no point asking what the Tsar meant. He had seen everything. Sandy would not have been summoned otherwise.  
>'What do you suggest?' Sandy asked, folding his legs beneath him on the chair.<br>'I am interested in your thoughts', Tsar countered, 'Too often you observe when you should speak your mind'.  
>'I believe he is suffering greatly', Sandy said, 'He does not know what is wrong with him or how to fix it'.<br>'His suffering is of his own doing', Tsar Lunar commented, 'He tries to be something he is not'.  
>'What do you think he is my lord?' Sandy asked.<br>'I don't want to say what I think he is', the Tsar said, his face turning dark with recollection, 'You recognise his powers as much as I do. But I will tell you what he is not. He is not a Guardian'.  
>Sandy's heart sank. Inside he had known that after seeing Pitch's true powers, the Tsar would never make Pitch a Guardian but to hear it delivered so blatantly stung him.<br>He understood the Tsar's position. Pitch's powers were not friendly: they were strong, fierce and dominating. They were born of darkness: the same darkness he and the Tsar had been forced to escape. But he refused to believe that was all Pitch was.  
>He cared about the boy. He enjoyed their conversations. He admired his strength and intelligence. Without realizing it, Pitch had become more to him than a pupil: he was a little brother. An innocent child who was dealing with a problem that was too big for him and not of his own making.<br>'I know', Sandy conceded, 'But perhaps there is another role he could fulfil?'  
>The Tsar shook his head.<br>'I gave him a chance. You know what he did'.  
>A balloon floating beside the Tsar displayed a flash of an image on its surface. A body wrapped in dreamsand beneath a tree.<br>Despite himself, Sandy felt a jab of anger.  
>'He was trying to protect a little girl! He panicked! It was not his fault!'<br>'But he then struck out at her mother as she tried to thank him', the Tsar said.  
>'And what did you do?!' Sandy snapped, 'Just watch?!'<br>The Tsar's eyes widened as if he had been struck. As Sandy regretted his outburst, the Tsar's look of surprise was replaced by cold eyes and a thin mouth.  
>'I wanted to see what he would do'.<br>'But the child- ' Sandy protested.  
>'Was perfectly safe', the Tsar said, looking into the blazing fire, 'You think I would sit back and allow a child to come to harm?!'<br>His eyes flicked to Sandy who could not return the gaze. His cheeks burned with shame at what he had said. Of course the child had been safe. But it did not excuse the lack of help for Pitch or any empathy for the difficult decision he had needed to make.  
>'Tell me', the Tsar pressed, eyes returning to the fire, 'How long do you think it will be before your pupil starts seeing them as prey rather than people to be protected? He will betray you'.<br>That was the last straw.  
>'It is not in his nature to betray anyone!' Sandy snapped, leaping up from his chair.<br>At his words, the atmosphere in the observatory seemed to change. Coolness seemed to radiate from the walls and the colours of the balloons faded. It suddenly became clear to Sandy that he and the Tsar were on a desolate ball of rock. The warmth was an illusion: a plaster over a gaping wound in the Tsar's soul.  
>The Tsar also rose from his chair but slowly as if carrying a great weight.<br>'His first betrayal cost me everything', Tsar Lunar said coolly, 'Is your memory so short?'  
>'What are you talking about?' Sandy asked.<br>The Tsar pulled one of his balloons down and rubbed the surface. An image began to form within.  
>A man in golden armour and a black cape. Pale skin and a thin face crowned with spiky black hair. A lethal spear glinting in his gauntleted hand but kind brown eyes reflecting the starlight above.<br>'Do you not see the resemblance?' the Tsar asked.  
>Sandy looked at the image closely.<br>He knew the man in the image. A renowned general of the Golden Age. Loyal, proud and devoted to his family. Until the nightmare began.  
>'It can't be', Sandy breathed.<br>'It isn't', the Tsar said flatly, 'But it was once'.  
>'How long have you known this?' Sandy asked, mystified.<br>As the Tsar spoke, he kept his eyes on the images. They showed great battles, the man leading the charge against shadowy figures then a dank prison, him holding the keys to the many cells where nameless things whispered and tormented him.  
>'Since your magic gave him something close to his original shape', the Tsar sighed, 'I had hoped some of the man might have remained. But when I spoke to him, in human form once more, he remembered nothing of Kozmotis Pitchiner'.<br>The Tsar dissolved the image of the man throwing open a cell door, his face lined with tears as something black lurking inside rushed out to meet him.  
>'But he does remember his loyalty to you even if he doesn't realise it!' Sandy cried, 'All he has done is try to live up to your expectations!'<br>'He is not what he was', the Tsar said, his bitterness tempered by sadness, 'His destiny on the path of light is lost forever. I know now that he is too twisted. Too savage. The man has become a monster'.  
>Sandy used some of his dreamsand to fling the balloon away without popping it.<br>'You say this only because you do not understand his powers!' he snapped, 'He may not be Pitchiner anymore but just because he is dark, it does not make him evil!'  
>'He belongs to the darkness now Sanderson: none can resist its power', the Tsar responded, hands clenched determinedly.<br>He was becoming irked by Sanderson's refusal to back down.  
>Did the shadows have a hold over him too?!<br>'He will!' Sandy said, himself annoyed by the Tsar's bullheadedness.  
>Did he not see how much good Pitch was capable of?! If anything the revelation that he had once been Pitchiner, the hero of the Lunar Empire, should have reinforced everything Sandy had said from the start!<br>The Tsar held up a hand, trying to calm the swelling argument.  
>This was not how he had wished his first proper conversation with another person in years to go.<br>'I do not doubt your determination. Merely your faith in a creature unworthy of your friendship'.  
>'His name is Pitch Black. You gave it to him, so use it!' Sandy shouted, slamming a fist onto the table in pure frustrated rage.<br>The Tsar's plate of pastries fell to the floor and shattered, scattering the food across the stone floor.  
>There was a ringing silence.<br>Sandy knew he had gone too far but knew he could not take it back.  
>Tsar Lunar knew he had been dismissive but saw no reason to take it back.<br>In that moment, both men realised they had changed but also that maybe they had never known each other as well as they had thought.  
>Sandy began to bend his knees to clean up the mess but a stiff hand gesture from the Tsar stopped him. The air of command was practically visible.<br>As the Tsar cleaned, he spoke in a strained voice.

'Very well. Stop him if you can and I will overlook his mistakes. I will even make him a Guardian. But, if you do not succeed, you will put an end to this nonsense yourself'.  
>'Put an end to it?' Sandy repeated disbelievingly.<br>The horror of the statement made him feel as if a creeping cold was slinking up from his stomach.  
>'You are the first of my Guardians', the Tsar stated, 'Your task is to protect the children of the world from monsters. Why else would I choose you, my greatest general, to lead the fight against them?'<br>'The Guardians are warriors?' Sandy asked.  
>The Tsar gave a humourless laugh.<br>'Did you think your role would be passive caretakers?' he asked, 'The ones that will join you are not ready yet but all have wills of steel and courageous hearts. You will be my warriors of light against the growing darkness'.

The Tsar threw the broken pieces of crockery into a wastebin and spun swiftly to face the reeling Sandy.

'You will ensure no human child will ever have their family snatched away from them by shadows or see their world burn in a black abyss of mindless hate!' the Tsar commanded, 'And if that means sacrificing Pitch Black, you will do it!'

Sensing Sandy's hesitancy, the Tsar delivered his coup de grace.

'If you don't, I will'.

Sandy remembered the searing moonlight beams that had disintegrated the remains of the defeated Nightmare Men. He thought of Pitch burning, fully awake and aware as the beam turned him to ash. It would not be swift and it would not be clean. But it would be efficient and absolute.  
>He wouldn't let it happen!<br>It wouldn't happen!  
>The Tsar was still hurting over the loss of his homeworld and the grief was blinding him to anything that did not fit into his belief that all so called 'dark powers' were evil by nature.<br>Sandy had saved Pitch because he believed otherwise.  
>The Tsar had awarded him extra time to prove it.<br>Pitch's destiny on the path of light was hidden but not lost: he could still be a Guardian.

'I understand', Sandy said, bowing once more.  
>'Then go', the Tsar said, waving a hand.<br>The moongate materialized and Sandy stepped through without a word.  
>It was only when he was certain Sanderson had left that the Tsar began to weep. <p>


End file.
